


sweeter still when we're alone

by louizsv



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Bottom Louis, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louizsv/pseuds/louizsv
Summary: Louis is looking up at him, eyes glazed over and fucked out. His hair is a mess and Harry truly feels like he’s fallen under Louis’ spell.“That’s right, you little witch,” he groans. He grabs the back of Louis’ hair and pulls it so that his head is tilted so far back that they’re barely centimetres apart, breathing in the same air. Harry closes his eyes and moves closer.Nobody ever tells you that love potions taste like cherries.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 569
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2019





	sweeter still when we're alone

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 317: lou is a soft, clumsy witch. harry is his sweet, broad-shouldered neighbor. two yrs of strange occurrences has h curious about what goes on next door.
> 
> This is my first fic and I give the biggest thanks to jayla and liz for supporting my ass.
> 
> Also, let me preface this by disclaiming that I finished writing this a month before hs2 came out. Take that as you will. 
> 
> Mild dub-con attributed to potions.
> 
> Enjoy, my dudes.

_Not again_. 

Harry stares down at the box he held in his hands warily, uncertain of what could be inside, yet all too aware of the possibilities. This is the third time this month that he’s gone down to collect his mail and been faced with his next-door neighbour’s bizarre parcels. 

It had all started a few weeks after he’d moved in. Expecting his own boxes of knick-knacks from home to finally arrive, he’d run down to the building’s lobby where the mail was held, and what he received was not at all what he’d been expecting. Rather than the cardboard box he was expecting from his mother, the post-box swung opened, and within it was a small, intricate box. Carvings embellished the sides and barely-closed top of the box and he gagged lightly at the slight, but pungent, smell that wafted out from the inside. 

Confused and more than a little grossed out, Harry turned over and looked around the box for a tag or indicator that would tell him to whom the parcel was meant to go to, eventually finding a small sticker with the name _L. Tomlinson_ handwritten on it. Pleased with his findings, Harry had gone straight to the manager and found out that this L. Tomlinson was in fact occupying the flat right next to him.

As fast as he could, Harry had returned to his flat and dropped the box off in front of the door labeled 5B, knocking at the door and quickly fleeing to his own flat next door when a low growl emanated from the other side. 

Since that day, another two boxes, carved with the same emblems and runes, had somehow ended up in his post-box, and he had returned each of them as soon as possible, unable to stomach the scent. He always fled before his neighbour could come to the door, the low growl on the other side of the door scaring him away each time. He had come close to finally seeing his mysterious neighbour two weeks ago, as he was leaving for work early in the evening.

As he turned back around after locking his front door, Harry had caught only a glimpse of a large black hat and flowing, sheer fabric before his neighbour had shut the door, calling out “Pippin!” in a soft, lilting voice. 

After the third incident, he’d called his mother to ask her advice about confronting the mystery next door. Of course, as mothers were wont to do, the only thing she could focus on was the fact that he finally had the chance to make new friends in a new city, worried as she was that he'd be a hermit forever. 

"You should introduce yourself! Bring a gift," she'd suggested, no holds barred, "I'm sure they're good company and maybe you'll finally talk to someone other than your own mother." 

It was safe to say that he'd promptly ignored her advice and left the box on outside his neighbour's door, bright blue sticky note stuck to the top, asking that they fix their shipping address.

Now, no more than a month after the first incident, this was the fourth time that his neighbour had mistakenly sent him their mail and Harry has finally had enough. The smell of the last box had been so bad that it had practically lived in his nose for the past two weeks. And if this fourth one was anything to go by, it was only going to get worse. 

Incensed, Harry stomps up the stairs to the second floor, set on giving his secretive neighbour a piece of his mind and firmly requesting that he make sure that whoever was sending him the reeking boxes properly knew where to send them from here on out. Practicing his speech and steeling himself for a possible confrontation, Harry pounds his fist against the door three times. 

_Knock Knock Knock_

A loud, bustling clanging comes from inside the flat, along with a small little _ouch!_ in that same delicate voice. Worried, Harry takes a step back from the door, eyes roaming around the seam of it, wary of what could come from behind it. Soon enough, the handle begins to turn and the hinges creak, as Harry’s neighbour finally reveals themselves. 

He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the cutest fucking boy Harry has ever laid his eyes on. Standing a fair few inches shorter than him stands a curvy figure with soft brown hair that brushes the back of a slim neck and falls across a pixie-like face. Freckles form constellations across his cheeks and his eyelashes are so long they actually brush against his face. Harry stands transfixed as bright blue eyes stare at him, paralyzing him, and soft pink lips move as his neighbour speaks to him face to face for the first time. 

_Oh shit, he’s talking._ Harry tunes back in. 

“-something you need?” a surprisingly strong Yorkshire accent asks. The boy’s eyes stare right into his depraved soul. He’s so pretty. 

“Oh, um, yeah,” he stutters, clasping a hand around the back of his neck nervously, “I, uh, just wanted to give you this. It’s yours, but I think I got it by accident.” 

Harry hands over the elaborate parcel, the smell briefly wafting up to his nose. Harry breaks his eye contact with the fairy next door to look down and scowl at the source of the stench. A giggle interrupts his staring contest with the box, which he was definitely winning, and he flicks his gaze back to the small creature in front of him. His eyes are creased with delight and he holds a delicate hand to his smiling mouth. Harry notices that his sweater is so oversized that the sleeves fall adorably over his hands. He holds back the urge to coo. 

"You should, I mean, I don't want to tell you what to do," Harry wants to slap himself as he continues to ramble on, "but I think you should probably, um, fix your shipping address on whatever site you're using to order this. This is the fourth time it's come to my post box." 

The angel in front of him reaches forward to take the box from his hand and Harry can't help but take note of the difference in the size of their hands. His eyes briefly flick upwards towards the heavens, before falling back on his neighbour. 

"Oh, thanks! It feels like I've been waiting for this order for so long," the angel says, cocking his hip as he elaborates, "I was so worried it wasn't going to come." 

Harry takes a deep breath, wetting his lips. _I'd make sure you always come_. "It's not a problem," he waves his hand dismissively in front of him, "just make sure you fix the shipping address." 

"Yeah, I will," the boy says quietly, "Thanks a lot, um..." The silence goes on for a beat too long before Harry realizes he's waiting for his name.

"Oh! I'm Harry," he says, "I live next door in 5A," he points with his thumb, before offering his hand for a shake. 

"I'm Louis," the angel, Louis, offers. His small hand fits perfectly in the larger cradle of Harry's hand.

"Cool," Harry says. He coughs to clear his throat.

"Yeah. Cool," Louis' eyes crease up with laughter again and he grins softly down at their hands. Their hands that are still shaking, that have probably been shaking for far too long. Harry takes his hand back self consciously, running it through his hair like he was planning on doing that the whole time. _Calm down, Styles_. 

Silence fills the space between them. "Well, I'm gonna go back," Harry points towards his flat next door. But before he can take a step, Louis interrupts him with his sweet voice. 

"Oh, gosh! I'm so rude," Louis fusses, looking back into his own flat and then back at Harry, "Do you want to come in? I've just put on some tea." 

His mother’s words about making new friends echo in his head. 

“If you don’t mind,” Harry answers, taking a step into the flat at Louis’ invitation, “I’d love some tea.” 

As Louis walks into the kitchen, Harry takes a moment to take in his surroundings. The flat’s layout is basically identical to his own: a large living room, a kitchen, and two doors that lead to the bedroom and bathroom along the wall to his left. It’s the decorating that makes him pause. The walls are a deep blue, the windows covered by pitch black curtains and the floor is covered in eclectic rugs. There are two large bookcases filled to the brim to his right and the large couch that takes up the most space in the room is purple with many pillows decorating it. But it’s the many animal heads and framed insects hung on the wall that captures Harry’s attention the most. 

He takes a shaky breath, playing with his rings in the middle of the entrance as he waits for Louis to return. He glides back in a few minutes later, a tray laden with an intricate and delicate tea set balanced in his hands. He sets it on the table and begins to prepare his own tea, as Harry does the same. (Splash of milk, no sugar for both of them) 

The quiet of the flat is momentarily filled with the clinking of silver spoons on china and the noise of the city coming in through the open window. Louis gently blows on his tea before taking a sip. Harry’s completely entranced with his familiar, graceful movements and the way his hair falls across his face, his hand coming up to brush it away a few times.

“Have you lived here long?” Harry asks. Louis looks up from his steaming tea at Harry, putting his cup down. 

“I moved in last June, so 7 months now,” he answers, “What about you? What do you do?” 

Just then, a giant orange ball of fur jumps onto the couch between them, curling up on Louis’ lap. Harry lets out a startled yelp at the sudden interruption. 

“Pippin! There you are, lovey,” Louis lets out a cooing noise and brushes his fingers through the cat’s fur. At least, Harry thinks it’s a cat. The face is distinctly cat-like but the size of it is more like a medium-sized dog than the cats Harry knows from his childhood. 

“Who’s this?” The creature, Pippin, cuts his eyes at Harry, as though he’s interrupted his moment with Louis. Harry reaches out hesitantly to pet it, getting a short hiss in return. He pulls his hand back. 

Louis taps Pippin’s nose. “Hey, none of that, mister.” The cat-dog looks up at Louis, looking as reproachful as a cat-dog could. “This is Pippin, my f-fucking huge cat.” 

“So he is a cat? He’s huge,” Pippin keeps his eyes on Louis, dutifully ignoring Harry’s presence. Harry scowls. 

“He’s a Maine Coon, a big one at that. Isn’t that right, lovey?” the cat preens at this, looking proud. Harry’s never realized that cats could project so many emotions. He watches as Louis gives his cat little kisses, feeling irrationally jealous. 

_Is it irrational? This cat keeps looking at me like he’s gloating._

“You’re like his mum,” Harry says without thinking. His clamps his mouth shut when he registers what he’d said, afraid that he might have offended his neighbour. 

Thankfully, Louis just giggles. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he scratches behind the cat’s ear, “Hear that, Pippin? I’m your mum.” Pippin stretches up and pushes his head against Louis’, making him laugh. 

Harry spends the next few hours sitting with Louis and Pippin, learning about the boy and telling him about himself in turn. They bond over their shared love of indie music and white chocolate and bicker over the importance of cilantro in cooking (Louis insists that it tastes like soap). He learns that Louis is two years his senior, surprising him, at 27. He’s self-employed and he loves nature. Harry tells him about his first year as a high school math teacher and about the time his mom chaperoned his first date. The entire time, Harry feels his smile growing wider. It’s the best afternoon he’s had in a while, even with a large cat staring him down the entire time. 

When he finally gets home, after making himself a simple dinner with the few groceries he has, Harry thinks about the fact that he never got to ask Louis about the strange boxes he’s been getting. He shrugs to himself, certain that he’ll eventually get the chance to ask Louis about it another time. He definitely doesn’t want to let this budding friendship go.

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry starts to see Louis everywhere. Whether it’s a glimpse of his long black shawl or his blinding smile in the middle of their local grocery store, surrounded by pasta and different sauce jars, Harry always takes the chance to talk and joke around with his neighbour. 

Harry’s also taken to leaving a half-hour earlier in the morning for his run, just so he can meet Louis at the door when he comes back. Louis will usually be leaving for his own kind of morning run, (“Supplies” he says) a large tote bag hanging from his slim shoulders. These meetings usually just consist of a brief “good morning” before Louis insists that he has to leave. 

Harry hates to see him go, but he loves to watch him walk away. 

The Friday following that initial meeting lands Harry in front of the standing mirror in his room, trying on different outfit combinations and greasing up his just-washed hair by constantly running his fingers through it. His best friend sits on the bed behind him, drumming his fingers impatiently on the comforter. 

“Come on H, we haven’t got all night,” Liam says, slapping his thighs and getting up, “We should have left for the restaurant ten minutes ago.” 

“Sorry for wanting to make a good impression on your first boyfriend and his friend,” Harry snaps, “I thought this was _important_ for you.” 

“It’s more important to me that we actually get to the restaurant within the next hour,” Liam grabs a cream button-up shirt and fitted blue jeans from the pile of clothes on the floor, pushing them into Harry’s chest, “Wear this and let’s go.” 

Shocked, Harry wordlessly takes the clothes and changes. As they reach the front door, Harry pauses and turns to Liam, “Wait, which coat should I wear?” 

He laughs at Liam’s answering groan. 

When they finally reach the restaurant (only twenty minutes late, thank you very much), Liam launches himself from the car towards a small brunette waiting by the entrance. Harry hands over the keys to the valet before following. When he reaches the couple, Liam is laying quick kisses on his boyfriend’s lips, getting shy giggles in return. 

Liam turns to Harry, “Harry this is Niall. Niall this is my best mate, Harry.” They greet each other, Harry noting Niall’s soft brown hair and happy blue eyes. He’s got a constant smile on and seems genuinely happy to meet his boyfriend’s friend. 

“Louis is just in the washroom fixing up his hair, but he should be out soon,” Niall says. The two friends nod in understanding and they make their way towards their reserved table. 

Harry’s flipping through his menu, trying to decide between a few different pasta dishes, when the chair next to the left of him is pulled out and someone sits beside him. When he looks up to greet them, his mouth drops open. 

His next-door neighbour sits beside him dressed in a flowing black jumpsuit, a long necklace hanging from his neck. His hair is brushed back from his face and he’s smiling at Liam, introducing himself. Harry can only stare, stunned. His eyes drop unwittingly to Louis’ small waist and ample hips being presented to him as he bends over the table to shake Liam’s hand. His breath catches in his throat at the sight. 

His eyes shoot back up to the table and he sees Niall smirking at him from across the table. Harry feels his face heat up and he turns to Louis to avoid Niall’s amused stare. 

“Hi Harry!” Louis smiles at him before opening his own menu. Niall and Liam look between them, confused. 

“How do you two know each other?” Liam asks, bemused.

“Louis lives next door to me,” Harry explains, not meeting Liam’s eyes. He suddenly regrets gushing about his pretty new neighbour to him the other day. Sure enough, Liam sputters into his beer, prompting a brief coughing fit. Niall smacks his back lightly, sympathetic. 

“What a weird coincidence,” he raises his eyebrows, “don’t you think, Lou?” 

Louis hums an agreement, looking up from his menu briefly and biting his lip. 

Eventually, the table settles back down into normalcy and conversation begins to flow between the four of them. 

After the waiter has left with their orders, Niall leans his elbows on the table and whispers into Louis’ ear. Liam and Harry share a puzzled look when Louis giggles in response and leans over to whisper back, cupping Niall’s ear to hide his mouth from view. Harry slaps Liam’s shoulder to get his attention. 

“Liam, get over here and let me whisper into your ear,” he says.

“No, dude, what the fuck?” Liam exclaims, leaning away. 

“Whatever,” Harry pouts. He didn’t have anything important to say, anyways. Liam shakes his head amusedly at him. Louis laughs at his dramatics, his hand in front of his face. Harry smiles back at him, crossing his eyes. The giggles grow a bit louder and Harry’s heart grows warmer. 

Soon enough, their dinner is served and comfortable silence takes over the table again, the only sound the clinking of metal of their plates and appreciative humming at the good food. 

After an awkward dessert (watching Niall lick a spoon clean of any chocolate only does _something_ for one of them), the bill is settled and the four boys leave the posh restaurant. Liam announces that him and Niall are going to go for a short walk, leaving Harry and Louis to themselves. 

Slightly awkward silence reigns once more as they watch the couple walk into the distance, hands held between them. Harry clears his throat. 

“So, uh, how’s Pippin?” He breaks the silence. Louis turns to look at him, eyes wide and innocent. 

“Pippin’s doing well,” fond smile grows on his face as he thinks about his cat, “He actually brought me a few gifts this morning, which was so sweet.” He lays a hand on his heart.

“Gifts?” Harry asks. He’s never heard of pets giving their humans _gifts_. 

Louis nods, “Yeah, you know, leaves, mice, birds. Stuff like that. Cat things.” 

Slightly disturbed, Harry nods slowly, “Right, of course.” 

“What about you?” Louis shakes out his coat sleeves so that they slide over his hands, leaving only his fingertips visible, “How have you been since we last met?” 

“I’ve been good. Lots of correcting, math quizzes and stuff,” Harry can’t quite explain it, but this conversation feels distinctly more awkward and stilted than their usual. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they just had dinner with a couple still in their honeymoon phase, but it feels as though there could be certain expectations that Harry’s not ready to face yet. 

They continue their short, civil conversation in this manner, never acknowledging the charged air between them. When Liam and Niall return from their walk, lips puffed and cheeks flushed, they all say their goodbyes and go their separate ways, Louis with Niall and Harry with Liam. 

Harry watches Louis walk across the car park to Niall’s car. A smile breaks across his face when Louis turns back one last time to wave him goodbye. He raises his hand back in a wave and turns to Liam, readying himself for the interrogation he knows will come. 

“What was that?” _There it is_ , “What the hell was that, Harry Styles?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Liam Payne,” Harry says, getting into the car. Honestly, he didn’t think he was that bad. Sure, he’d been struck by Louis at the start of the night and teased and played with him throughout dinner, but he hadn’t even flirted with him once!

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, H,” Liam huffs, “You stared at him the whole time. That creepy stare you only do when you really like someone.

“And he laughed at your jokes!” He adds as if it means anything. Everyone laughs at his jokes, they’re legitimately funny. Liam’s just boring. 

Ignoring that last part, Harry chuckles, “Liam, I barely know him.” 

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” His friend counters, “Just be careful, H.” Harry sobers up at Liam’s serious tone and nods. The rest of the ride home is spent in contemplative silence. 

When he gets to Harry’s flat, Harry leans into the driver’s side window to tell Liam, “I really think you and Niall are great together, Li. Hold onto him, or I will!” 

“Yeah, right! Go inside and pine over your hot goth neighbour!” Harry laughs and flips him off, and Liam pulls out of the drive to head back home. 

When he gets off the lift on the fifth floor, Harry stops for a moment outside of flat 5B’s door, trying to hear if Louis made it home before him. Not hearing much other than the air blowing through the vents, Harry turns to his own door. 

As he’s about to close the door behind him, Harry hears the lift's doors _ding!_ echoing in the hallway. For some unknown reason, Harry freezes and decides to keep his door open a sliver. He hears a sigh and the sound of a door being unlocked.

“Pippin!” Louis’ accented voice fills the empty space around him, “I have to tell you this hilarious joke Harry told me tonight!”

The sweet sound of his neighbour’s voice tapers off as he shuts his door and walks further into the flat next door. Harry scrunches his nose, trying to bite back a smile. 

_Ha! Take that, Liam_. 

The next morning, Harry is once again confronted by an intricate and pungent box in his post. He sighs and tilts his head back in exasperation. He turns and heads back to the lift, parcel in hand. 

When he reaches the fifth floor, he marches straight for flat 5B. He knocks insistently. The door opens up right away. Louis stands in front of him looking confused and alarmed at the urgency of his knocking. 

“Harry? What’s wrong?” He looks Harry up and down to make sure he’s uninjured. 

“This is what’s wrong,” he thrusts the box towards Louis, “I told you last time to fix the shipping address, Louis.” 

Confused, Louis looks at it before taking it in hands, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I thought I set the shipping correctly this time.” 

Louis sniffles and runs his fingers under his eyes. He looks up at Harry from below his lashes, “I didn’t mean to make you mad.” 

A throbbing heat begins to make a home in Harry’s groin. 

He coughs to clear his throat, “It’s, uh, it’s fine. I’m not mad.” 

Louis perks up at this, “Did you want to come in? I don’t have much, but we could watch a movie?” he asks hopefully. 

Harry thinks of the monstrous cat just waiting for him to make the wrong move waiting inside. And then he thinks about cuddling on Louis’ big purple couch, watching a scary movie and protecting the smaller man from jump scares, “Yeah, I’d love to watch a movie.” 

Louis beams and grabs Harry’s hand in both of his own, pulling him into the flat. 

“I’ll get some snacks, you pick the movie!” Louis shouts, already moving towards the kitchen, “They’re under the television.” His giant cat is nowhere to be seen. 

Harry’s crouched on the floor in front of the TV, debating between Annabelle and Bambi, when he hears a shattering sound and a yelp come from the kitchen. 

He’s just made it into the kitchen when he sees the culprit; Louis is sat in the middle of the kitchen, nursing a bleeding finger, surrounded by shards of glass. A strange amber liquid bleeds into the cracks between the tiled floor. 

“Louis! Are you okay?” Harry spares a thankful thought that he still has his house shoes on as he steps over the glass to get to Louis. “What happened?” 

Louis just shakes his head and sniffles in response. Tears are running down his cheeks, the tip of his finger still in his mouth. Harry bends down and picks him up in a bridal carry.

As he’s moving towards the bathroom, Harry hears a mighty _Rrrowr!_ come from below. He looks down and sees Pippin circling his legs, trying to get to the crying Louis in his arms. Harry places Louis gently on the counter and turns on the sink. Pippin jumps onto the toilet seat next to them. 

“Alright, darling, I need to see your finger,” Harry speaks softly, trying to pry Louis’ hand away from his mouth. Louis shakes his head stubbornly, “Come on, Lou. I need to clean it.” 

Finally, Louis relents his hand to Harry. Harry looks at it, at the blood running down the side of hand, “Oh, baby,” he sighs, “Don’t worry, you’ll live.” 

Louis giggles wetly at his mock-serious tone. 

Harry gets the wound cleaned up and bandaged, placing a small kiss on the tip of Louis’ finger when he’s all done, “There we go, darling. Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll clean the kitchen, huh?” 

Louis tries to protest but Harry shoos him away with a small smack to his bum. Pippin follows Louis to the living room, giving Harry a glare and flicking his tail as he leaves. 

Harry moves to the mess, grabbing the broom and dustpan hooked on the wall. When he’s done sweeping up the mess, he mops up the spill. 

He goes to grab a bottle of water from the fridge for Louis, but when he opens it, he sees that it’s filled with dozens of mason jars filled with various different liquids. There are no other groceries. Deep green, red, yellow, brown and more fill his vision and Harry stares at it, confused for a second, before closing the fridge and grabbing a glass from the cupboards. 

Louis is curled up reading a book on his big purple couch, Pippin splayed along the entire back of it, when Harry comes back from the kitchen. He places the glass on the coffee table and grabs the blanket from the wingback chair, throwing it over Louis’ legs and then settles in beside him on the couch. 

He feels a nudge at his thigh, looking down and seeing Louis’ socked feet pushing to fit under him, “Thanks, Harry,” Louis says quietly. He reaches a hand up to scratch under Pippin’s chin, getting a soft purr in response. 

“Not a problem, darling,” Harry whispers back. 

They spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, Louis reading his book and Harry dividing his attention between the muted football game he’s put on and watching Louis turn the pages of his book. Pippin falls asleep behind them with a paw resting on Louis’ shoulder and his tail lashing against the back of Harry’s head every few minutes. 

When Harry gets up to finally leave, he feels a gentle tug on the bottom of his shirt. He looks back at Louis, "What's up?" 

"I just wanted to thank you again for staying," Louis says quietly, "You didn't have to." 

Harry turns around and kneels on the floor beside him, taking his injured hand in his and checking on the dressing, "I wanted to stay," he says, "I really enjoy your company, Lou." 

Louis looks up at him from beneath his lashes and smiles, "I like your company too, Harry. You're really funny." 

"Can I get you to repeat that for Liam?" He asks.

Louis giggles and flaps his sweater paw in his direction, "See?" 

They smile at each other for a bit until Harry notices the time on his watch. "Oh, shit. I have to get back and do some correcting," he sighs, thinking about all of the test papers he has left, "Why don't you come by tomorrow for dinner?" 

"I'd love to!" Louis agrees, "Oh! Before you go, could you hand me my grimoire? It's on the top shelf on the left." He points to the towering bookshelves anchored to his wall. Harry goes to grab it, not entirely sure what a grimoire is. He's pretty sure it's a diary of some kind. 

The only book on the top shelf is a thick, leather tome, carved with an intricate design not dissimilar to the boxes Harry has been getting for Louis. He picks it up and hands it over to the boy on the couch. 

"Thanks, Haz," Louis smiles brightly at him, taking the tome and opening it up on his lap. 

"Haz?" He tilts his head. 

Louis looks up at him, eyes wide. "You don't like it? Sorry, I just assumed!" 

"Louis, calm down, love," Harry assures him with a smile, "It's a great nickname. I love it." 

Louis nods at him and then nods again, looking down with a blush. 

After that, they start to hang out more often. It becomes routine for Harry to return home from work, shower, and bring his correction pile over to Louis’ flat. He’ll correct the pop quizzes and exams he needs to while Louis will either sit beside him at the kitchen table with a book, or he’ll stand by the stove and stir his mysterious concoctions. 

Harry learns that Louis’ self-made business is made up of different goods that he sells online. He shows Harry the various health tonics, jewelry and used books that people buy from him and Harry tries to teach Louis about variables and correlation. Emphasis on _tries_. 

Pippin never fully warms up to Harry, he’ll still hiss and swat if he gets too close, but he’s chosen to ignore his presence for the most part. Harry can see now that he’s just being protective over Louis, and frankly, he understands. 

Louis is one of the clumsiest people Harry has ever met. He’s constantly tripping over himself and spilling the contents of his mason jars in the fridge. He’ll accidentally pinch his own finger trying to put together necklaces or roll off of the couch in the middle of his naps. 

Harry’s taken to shadowing Louis around the house to make sure he doesn’t bump into any sharp corners due to his nose being stuck to the pages of his book. 

That’s another thing that Harry learns about his mysterious neighbour. He’s always reading heavy books that he never wants to explain. He’s also always carrying around a leatherbound notebook and pen that he’ll use randomly, whenever a thought or idea occurs to him. 

Harry has asked if he wants to write or compose. But Louis always denies it, explaining that it’s not literature that he’s writing. He never gives more details than this. 

They also start a weekly movie night on Thursday nights. He’s in charge of dinner while Louis is relegated to choosing the movies after his first attempt at cooking for Harry ended up with the entire flat complex standing outside while firefighters filed in to try and find the source of the smoke. 

Soon enough, over a year has passed and the two of them are closer than ever. Harry feels like he’s known Louis his entire life, has told him everything there is to know about him. He knows Louis trusts him with his life, too. 

It’s the Thursday before Halloween and Harry is setting the plates on the table while Louis looks through Netflix, trying to pick a scary movie for them to watch tonight. Harry’s looking been forward to tonight’s movie night. Louis always gets so scared after a scary movie, and usually asks Harry if he can stay the night. 

Now, Harry’s no dirty bastard, but he does love taking care of Louis like nothing else. He loves waking up the next morning and seeing Louis’ relaxed sleeping face. He loves slipping out of bed and starting on breakfast, knowing that Louis will be joining him, and preparing a cup of tea for him. 

He slips back into the present when Louis wraps his arms around his waist and lays his head against Harry’s back, “Hazza,” he whines, “I’m hungry.” 

“That’s good,” he places the final plate in the middle of the table, “because dinner is served!” 

Harry watches fondly as Louis closes his eyes and inhales through his nose, humming happily at the aroma of the vegan ravioli that Harry had slaved over. 

They sit down at Harry’s small kitchen table and dig in. Louis spends the entire time knocking his feet against Harry’s and trying to add pepper to his dish. 

“Lou,” Harry reprimands. He circles his fingers around Louis’ wrist to stop him from picking up the pepper shaker for the seventh time. 

Louis looks up at him from under his lashes mischievously. The tension in his arm eases and Harry releases his wrist. He stares him down for a minute, making sure that he doesn’t move. 

When he returns to his dinner, the extra splash of pepper that lands on his pasta both does and doesn’t surprise him. 

Eventually, they finish dinner and move to the couch. The movie is already ready to play on the television and Harry prepares the blankets and pillows while Louis shuts off the lights. 

“So what’s tonight’s poison?” Harry asks. 

“ _The Conjuring_ ,” Louis jumps onto the couch beside him, grabbing most of the blanket and pulling it over himself. 

Harry holds onto his tiny corner of the blanket, a wry smile on his face, “Thanks for sharing the blanket, Lou.” 

“No problem!” 

“That was sarcasm.” 

“I know,” Louis slides him an extra inch of blanket. Harry takes what he can get, settling his blanket-corner over his perpetually cold feet. Louis sends a sweet smile his way and, well, Harry just can’t stay annoyed with him. He’s too cute. 

Overwhelmed by the preciousness that is Louis Tomlinson, Harry leaps over and starts tickling his fingers along Louis’ rib cage. Sweet laughter erupts from Louis’ lips. He starts playfully thrashing his body around trying to get away from the assault but Harry climbs on top of his legs to cage him in, doubling down on his tickle attack. 

“Ahh! No! Ha-ha-hazza!” Tinkling laughter interrupts his pleading, “S-stop, please! I’ll behave! I’ll beha-ha-have!” 

“Say Harry Styles is the sexiest man alive!” 

“No!” 

“It’s your funeral, baby,” Harry doesn’t stop tickling Louis, leaning even closer to get to that sweet spot closer to his back that Harry knows will make him scream. 

Louis squeals when he realizes what Harry’s trying to do, twisting away, “Fine! Ah! Harry Styles is the sexiest man alive!” It comes out squeaky and breathless. 

Harry stops his attack suddenly, breathing hard from his own laughter. He’s still leaning over Louis, fists planted into the couch cushion on either side of Louis’ head. Louis is looking up at him, mouth slightly agape trying to gasp in air in the aftermath. His lips are still shiny with gloss and his eyes are bright with laughter.

A familiar heat begins to grow and Harry scrambles back off of Louis and onto the couch. Louis sits up slowly, adjusting his fringe delicately. 

“...not,” Harry hears. He turns to Louis, “What was that, baby?” 

“We should start the movie,” Louis says. He grabs the remote and presses play, settling back into his spot in the crevice between two of the couch cushions. The blanket has already been thrown over his legs, half of it laying unused beside him for Harry. 

Before he has the chance to claim his half, Pippin jumps up on the couch between them, circling around a few times before settling in and starting to knead the soft fibers. Louis gasps happily and runs his fingertips along the top of the cat’s massive head. 

“Pippin, lovey! Have you come to protect me from the scary monsters?” Louis coos. The cat looks like he agrees, sending Harry a pointed glance. He frowns back.

The night ends at Louis’ door, where he and Harry stand facing each other. Louis is rocking back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back.

“So next week at yours?” 

Harry nods and bends down to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist in a hug. They stand there and sway for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling. He hesitates for a second before letting Louis out of his hold and standing straight. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch?” Harry pushes his feet into his slippers and opens the door. 

Louis shoots him finger guns, “Brenda’s at noon.” 

Harry smiles and leans in to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead, cupping the back of his head and enjoying the feeling of his soft hair running through his fingers.

“Goodnight, Lou.” 

“Nighty night, Haz. Thanks for protecting me from the monsters.” 

Harry jolts awake, the sensation of falling in his dream quickly vanishing from his mind. He looks at his phone, 2:43 AM. He sits confused until he hears the reason for his sudden awakening. There are footsteps padding across the floor of his flat. He glances at the bottom of the door. The lights are off. Quickly and stealthily, he rolls out of bed and towards his closet where he keeps his metal baseball bat. 

He moves slowly towards the bedroom door, bat at the ready. Slowing his breath and listening carefully, Harry places his ear against the wood. The only sound he can hear is his own breathing and the _woosh, woosh, woosh_ of his blood pumping in his ears. Images from the movie he watched with Louis earlier that night flash through his mind. 

He stands there for a few minutes, unable to hear anything else and consumed by his mounting fear. Slowly, he places a completely stable hand on the handle. 

The handle turns easily under the pressure and the door inches open slowly. Harry holds his breath as the dark living room of his flat comes into view. He stands in the doorway and scans the room. When nobody pops up from behind the couch after a few minutes, Harry begins to step into the room with his bat still in position over his shoulder. 

Taking a tour around his flat, it quickly becomes apparent that Harry’s the only one here. He lets the bat fall limp in grasp, still keeping an ear out in case he hears something else. 

“Hello,” he whispers into the dark, “Is there anyone there?” 

No answer.

His heart is only starting to calm down when Harry notices something on his coffee table that wasn’t there when he went to sleep only a few hours ago. He moves to the wall and flicks the light switch, bathing the dark room in light. He flinches at the sudden brightness and blinks frantically, trying to adjust. Not his best moment, admittedly. 

Finally, when his eyes are used to the light and he can see clearly again, Harry looks at the table in the middle of his living room. Laid upon the top of it is a bundle of rosemary tied together with a string. Harry picks it up and turns it over, bemused at its sudden appearance in his flat. 

Harry jumps at the sudden banging that sounds against the wall that separates his flat from Louis’. 

“I’m fine!” he hears Louis’ muffled voice shout.

Tension effectively broken by his friend’s clumsiness, Harry turns off the lights and goes back to his room. He picks up his phone and sends Louis a text. 

**Go to sleep, clumsy lamb**

He waits a minute before his screen lights up with a response. 

_Sorry didn’t mean to wake u up_

**You’re fine. I was up anyways.**

_Thinking about me?_

**Always am**

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before falling back asleep. The last thing he sees is the bundle of rosemary set on his bedside table, darkness taking him once more. 

The bell above the door rings as Harry walks through the front door of Brenda’s. Brenda’s is his and Louis’ favourite cafe. Located a few minutes away from the high school where he works, they try to meet there for lunch at least twice a week. Harry always takes this time to decompress from the pressure of his overbearing boss and meddling students. He really needs it today, too. 

Scanning the rows of booths and couches, he spots Louis sitting alone in the corner, stirring a cup of tea and picking at a panini on a painted plate. He also has a notebook open in front of him. The long sleeves of his black kimono almost cover his fingertips, the blood-red of his nail polish barely peeking out. He watches Louis check his phone and fix his fringe before making his way over.

When he slides into the seat opposite him, Louis puts his phone away and smiles at him. 

“God, Lou, you won’t believe what my boss told me this morning,” Harry rants, taking a bite from the sandwich on the table. 

Louis flags down the waiter, holding up his finger to Harry to hold his story. 

The waiter stumbles to get to their table. He pulls a pen and pad out and takes Harry’s order, as well as a second cup of tea for Louis. The waiter is one that Harry hasn’t seen working here before. Young and attractive, he fits into the contemporary and youthful energy of the cafe. He watches as the waiter’s eyes widen slightly when he sees Louis’ face. 

Harry then watches and cringes at how the young waiter falls over himself trying to get Louis to notice him. As the waiter brushes his hair back, Harry can’t help but notice how his biceps flex beneath his fitted shirt. His eyes are locked on Louis when he asks him if there’s anything (“Oh, I’m sure,” Harry can’t help but mumble) else they need. 

“No, thank you,” Louis dismisses him, “that’ll be all for now.” 

The waiter slumps over and makes his way back to the counter. Harry almost feels bad for the kid. 

“‘Hi Louis, how are you today?’” Louis says in a mock-deep voice, “Oh, I’m good. How about you, Harry?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, “You know I care about your day like nothing else. I just couldn’t get over what Temple said to me this morning.” 

Louis reaches over and places his hand on Harry’s, turning it over and gently massaging his palm, “What happened?” 

“He was just being rude,” Harry explains, “like this morning, he said something about my teaching methods being too lenient on students. He doesn’t understand that some kids need extra attention or time with assignments.” 

Louis watches him sympathetically, never once stopping his massage, “You deserve better than that, Haz. You’re a great teacher! You’re always talking about how many kids come up to you to thank you and talk about their own problems. Temple doesn’t know what he’s talking about… I bet all the kids hate him.”

“Some people are just so stuck in the past,” Harry shakes his head, “He’ll retire soon enough. And you’re not wrong about the kids.” 

“See?” Louis giggles. He retracts his hand to pick up his newly delivered tea, thanking the waiter quietly. His eyes are on Harry as he starts spooning soup into his mouth. 

“We should do something this weekend night with Liam and Niall,” Louis says suddenly, “We haven’t all hung out in a while.” 

“Sounds great,” Harry agrees, “Dinner or something else?” 

“I’ve been wanting to go to that new club,” Louis quickly jots something down in his notebook, “You know the one with the live shows on Saturdays?” 

Harry freezes, spoon halfway to his mouth, “Why don’t we go out tonight instead?” he says, trying to sound casual. 

“I’m going to visit my sisters tonight,” a smile lights up Louis’ face, “It’s Lottie’s birthday. I told you last week.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I remember now. Tell her happy birthday from me.”

Louis watches him, concerned, “Are you alright, Haz?” 

“Fine,” his voice cracks. _Fuck_ , “I just can’t hang out on Saturday.” 

He can’t look Louis in the face. He _knows_ his clear blue eyes are filled with genuine concern and Harry’s insides are filled with regret and guilt. Both stem from his decision to keep this from Louis. He’s had a week now to tell him about it, but he’s been scared that it would change their dynamic. 

Louis and he had grown so close in such a short amount of time. They’ve told each other all there is to know about themselves. Harry would never say it to Liam out loud, but he knows that Louis is his best friend. He’s never kept a secret from Louis that didn’t include surprise gifts or parties. 

And now he’s been keeping a secret that could change their relationship forever. 

“Why not?” Louis sits up in his seat now, “Is everything okay?” 

_It’s now or never, Harry_ , his conscience tells him. 

“I have a date,” he blurts out.

Harry lies face down on his unmade bed. His phone is next to him. The speaker is on and Liam’s voice flows through it, berating him. 

“You shouldn’t have kept it a secret from him, H,” he’s saying, “You knew that’s what was going to hurt him.” 

And Harry knows this. It’s not the fact that he has a date that has Louis upset with him; it’s the fact that he kept it from him for a week. Louis always preaches about honesty and Harry knows that he values the fact that they always tell each other everything.

Harry feels terrible. His mind won’t stop recreating the scene of Louis walking out of the cafe right after he let the bomb drop. 

He hadn’t even said anything. Just shook his head, like he’d known the whole time, like he’d just been waiting for Harry to tell him, and walked out. He doesn’t even remember if he’d called out for Louis or not, frozen as he was in the moment. 

“I know, Liam,” Harry snaps, “I feel terrible. Thank you for reminding me.” 

“Just saying,” Liam reasons. 

It’s Saturday morning and he knows he should be getting everything ready for his date tonight, but he can’t gather the energy to get out of bed. 

_Louis-withdrawal is very real_ , he thinks. 

Harry lets out a long-suffering groan, “Liaaaaam, help.” 

“Not this time, Haz,” Liam says, ever the voice of logic, “You know what you did wrong and you know how to fix it.” 

“I hate you,” Harry mumbles into his pillow. 

“No, you don’t,” and fuck him, he’s right. Where would Harry be without Liam Payne? Probably in a ditch somewhere, asking strangers for rides and sleeping on their couches. It’s thanks to him that Harry got his shit together and made it to uni. 

Liam had always been there for Harry when no one else was when it felt like the entire world had turned on him. Sure enough, Harry could never ever hate Liam Payne. And he knows it. 

“Fix this, Harry. I can’t stand your whining.” 

He takes it back. He hates him. Harry slaps his hand out to the side and hangs up. 

“It’s not that easy!” he says out loud to no one. 

He thinks about the date he’d planned for tonight. Dinner and a movie. Cliche, but effective. Truth be told, he hadn’t put much thought into the date until his mother had called him earlier that week to remind him of the promise he made her the last time he visited her in Manchester. 

They were finishing their tea when his mother pulled out her knitting needles and yarn. Harry was instantly wary. The knitting needles never meant something good was about to happen. They had come out multiple times during his teenage years, always when his mum wanted to talk to him about his acting out. 

And there he sat at 26, just as scared of those needles as he was when he was 16.

“I’m worried about you, darling,” she started. 

“I’m doing fine, mum,” Harry replied. It was characteristic of his mum to worry about him. Doubly so now that he’d been living in London for a year. 

“You know I can’t help it,” she said. 

“I know, mum,” Harry started collecting the cups on the table, “I just wish you wouldn’t.” 

“I really hate the idea of you being alone in London,” 

“I’m not alone, mum,” he insisted, “I’ve got Louis and Liam.” 

“Yes, well…,” 

Harry stopped. He knew that tone. “What did you do?” 

“Now don’t get tetchy, but I may have told the boy next door that you wanted to take him out.” 

“Mum!” He couldn’t believe she’d done this! His own mother setting up dates for him. He hadn’t even known that there _was_ a boy next door. 

“I told him you’d pick him up next Saturday at 6,” she insisted, “So don’t be late.” 

“MUM!” he screeched. He placed the dishes on the counter and turned to face her, “I know you just want what’s best for me, but please take me and my consent into consideration next time.” 

Tears filled her eyes, “Oh, Harry. I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, no. I’ll tell him you canceled,” she put down her knitting tools and began to look for her phone. 

Harry moved forward and took her hands between his, “Mum, I said it’s fine. I’ll go on the date. Just please remember for next time.” 

“Of course, Harry,” she said, her mood back to normal, “Oh, he’ll be so excited.” 

He sighed and turned back to the sink. 

His mum picked her knitting tools back up, “Now, how’s Louis doing?” 

Now Harry sits in his kitchen, shoveling lunch into his mouth and watching his phone. He looks at the barrage of messages he’s sent Louis in the past hour, all asking him to text or call him back, that he can explain, that one date won’t change anything. 

He feels pathetic. He should be getting ready to drive down to Manchester to pick up Alex, his mom’s neighbour. Steeling himself, Harry rises from the table and cleans his mess. 

He goes to move to go get ready when there’s a knock at the door. He tilts his head slightly, not expecting any company. 

“Hello?” he opens the front door. His eyes widen when he sees Louis standing in front of him, hands interlocked in front of him, “Louis!” 

He steps back and Louis walks into his apartment, taking a customary look around. His eyes linger slightly in the direction of his living room. Harry rushes around to make him feel as comfortable as possible. “I’ll make tea. Why don’t you go sit on the couch? Feel free to take the blanket.” 

Louis thrusts his hand out, offering him a small tin, “I made you some tea.” 

Harry takes the tin from him, opening the lid and taking a whiff. The strong aromas of vanilla, rose and cherries drift up to him. 

Harry smiles at him. “Smells great, darling. I’ll go prepare it.” 

And so, Harry goes about spooning the tea into small tea bags and putting them in mugs while Louis gets more comfortable on the couch.

He comes back into the living room with two mugs of piping hot tea. He offers one to Louis, who unwinds his hands from his blanket-cocoon and takes it. 

“I’m really happy you’re here, Lou,” Harry starts. Louis holds his palm up to stop him. 

“I get it,” he says, “You didn’t want this to change anything between us.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Harry exhales, “I just felt like everything was so perfect. I didn’t want to jeopardize it.” 

Louis just nods, looking into his tea. The steam curls and coils around his face. Harry watches him close his eyes, silent. The quiet dominates the room, leaving Harry feeling slightly reassured, but still uneasy. He’s definitely not used to Louis being this quiet. His friend usually takes over any conversation he’s in, telling funny stories or doing silly voices. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen Louis so quiet.

Harry takes a sip of his tea. 

The assaulting taste of cherry immediately coats his tongue, quickly followed by the sweetness of vanilla and the bitter taste of roses. The initial assault leaves him reeling, but the aftertaste has him coming back for more. 

Louis’ eyes watch him as he downs his entire cup in record time. 

“Ah!” he exhales sharply, “that was a really good tea, Lou.” He puts his mug onto the table beside them, not bothering with a coaster. Louis puts his cup aside, too. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly. 

“You should really add that to the store,” Harry suggests, “It would sell really well.” 

Louis nods, “I’ll think about it, Haz.” He smiles. Harry’s heart is filled with happiness at that. He’s been so scared that yesterday’s disaster would destroy their friendship. But it looks like Louis has really forgiven him if his bright smile is anything to go by. 

Harry collapses onto Louis’ lap, overtaken with relief. Hands land on his head, playing lightly with his hair. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, nuzzling his face into his tummy. “I’m so sorry for keeping something from you, baby.” 

The angel above him sighs lightly and pokes his head, “I said that I forgive you.” 

“I know,” Harry tells him, “I’m just so happy. Love you, Lou.” 

He feels more than hears Louis’ happy giggle at this. The sensation of Louis’ hands running from his scalp down to his shoulders and back again soothes him like nothing else. He can hear Louis gently singing a lullaby above him. It’s the combination of that along with the warmth of Louis’ body against Harry’s face that gently lulls him to sleep.

Harry comes back to consciousness sometime later. His eyes flicker open and the first thing he registers is the pitch-black sky outside his window. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispers. It has to be far past 6 by now. He’d never make it to Manchester on time to make his date, especially taking into account the four hour drive. He’ll have to call his mum and Alex tomorrow to explain. 

The second thing he registers is that he’s alone in the living room, Louis nowhere to be found. He distinctly remembers falling asleep with Louis essentially surrounding him.

Mind still a bit groggy, Harry stands up and makes his way to his room to change out of his jeans and into sweatpants. While he’s there, he checks the time. It’s 8:23 at night. He’d fallen asleep for over 6 hours. When he makes his way back into the living room, he hears a clattering come from his kitchen. 

Peeking inside, he sees Louis bent over the counter, focused on reading the recipe from Harry’s favourite cookbook. The pages are dog-eared and annotated and Louis thumbs at the bent page corner as he reads. Harry leans against the archway and watches Louis sway his hips to the soft music that’s coming from his phone. 

The music switches to _That’s All_ by Michael Bublé and Harry is overcome with an urge to get as close as possible to Louis. He moves forward and places his hands on Louis’ waist, twirling him around to face him. He startles a bit but laughs when Harry begins to sway with his hands still set firmly on his waist. Louis lifts his arms so that they lock around Harry’s neck and steps onto his feet. 

They twirl around the kitchen for a while, looking into each other’s eyes from time to time and smiling giddily. Harry is overwhelmed with a familiar surge of contentment and happiness, just from being here and dancing with Louis. 

A few songs go by before Louis tries to disentangle himself from Harry’s grip to check on the pot that he left simmering on the stovetop. Harry’s hands tighten around his waist. 

“Harry,” Louis giggles, “I need to make sure I don’t burn dinner.” 

“So burn it,” his voice is deep and gravelly. Louis stops pretending to struggle in his grip. He looks up at Harry and his lips part. Eyes flicking down to those cherry red lips, Harry licks his own. He hears Louis’ breath catch in his throat. 

“H-Haz,” he stutters. Harry moves his hand up lightly, trailing his way from Louis’ waist and slowly up his curves to finally rest on his cheek. Louis closes his eyes and nuzzles into his palm. They stand there for a few more seconds before Louis twirls out of his grip and moves towards the stove. 

Taken aback by the sudden lack of Louis in his arms, Harry stands in the middle of the kitchen and watches Louis flit around. He fills two bowls with the pasta he’d been preparing and places them on the set table. “Dinner is served,” he says with a flourish. 

Taking slow steps forward, Harry boxes Louis in with his arms, palms flat against the table behind him. The way Louis has to crane his head up to look him in the eyes fills Harry with that familiar heat. The churning and burning in his groin usually scares him. This time, though, he doesn’t run from it. He doesn’t bother sparing a thought as to why that is. His focus is solely on the gorgeous boy in front of him. 

“Oh,” Louis says. Harry tilts his head above him to get closer, breathing in his sweet exhale. 

“Baby,” he growls. 

“W-wait a minute, Haz--oh my God,” Louis shivers when Harry’s lips touch the side of his neck. Harry inhales the sweet scent of Louis’ favourite perfume and pulls the neckline of his oversized sweater to the side for better access to his neck. 

Harry nuzzles into the warm skin of Louis’ throat and Louis whines at the feeling of his cold nose against him. He scrambles his hands up to push lightly at Harry’s shoulders. Harry pulls back slightly, a frown on his face. His other hand follows the curves of Louis’ waist. 

“I really didn’t think it was going to be this strong,” Louis says to himself. 

He grabs Harry’s face in both his hands, forcing them to lock eyes. Louis lets out a shaky breath and his eyelashes flutter when Harry’s thumb finds his nipple. He starts circling the bud, catching Louis at the waist when his knees go weak. He pulls his angel closer to him, aligning their hips.

“Harry,” he pants, “ _ah_ -please, Harry.” 

The hands on his cheeks fall to his broad shoulders when Harry pushes himself even closer to Louis again, whispering into his ear, “Call me Daddy.” 

He bites into the soft flesh beneath Louis’ ear and begins to suck and nibble. Harry feels a purr build up in his chest when Louis throws his head back and moans. He grabs beneath Louis’ thighs and lifts him onto the kitchen table, not caring about knocking over glasses and plates. He steps between his spread legs and caresses his soft thighs and ass. 

“Baby,” he says again, “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

Louis whines high, “Harry, I need you.” He locks his legs around Harry’s waist and pulls him in closer. Harry drops a quick _smack_ to Louis’ ass, wordlessly punishing him. 

“What was that, baby?” his deep voice rumbles. 

Louis shuts his eyes and shakes his head, trembling with pleasure as Harry rolls his hips against his. _He always was the stubborn one_ , Harry fondly thinks. _All the better to convince him._

“Yeah? Are you sure?” He licks a stripe along Louis’ neck and bites down on the lobe of his ear sharply. Another moan breaks its way through Louis’ throat. He grabs onto Harry’s hair with one hand, the other grasping at his back. “Do you want to try that again, angel?” 

“Again,” Louis pulls harder on Harry’s hair, making his scalp sting, “again, Harry, please.” 

Harry pulls his hand back and brings it back down on Louis’ ass harder than the first time. Louis shakes with pleasure in his arms, panting. “D-daddy,” he gets out. 

Harry closes his eyes as fiery heat bursts in his veins at hearing Louis call him that. He has to clench his teeth to stop himself from bursting right then. Louis is looking up at him, eyes glazed over and fucked out. His hair is a mess and Harry truly feels like he’s fallen under Louis’ spell. 

“That’s right, you little witch,” he grunts. He grabs the back of Louis’ hair and pulls it back so that his head is tilted so far back that they’re barely centimetres apart, breathing in the same air. Harry closes his eyes and moves closer. 

Louis freezes. 

“Oh my god,” he says suddenly, “What am I doing? You’re obviously not in your right mind. I can’t fucking believe I did this.” 

Harry is confused and moves easily when Louis pushes at his chest. He can only watch dismayed as Louis gathers his things and runs out the front door, only stopping to bend and pick up his shoes, not even bothering to put them on. Harry is left alone in his kitchen, shirt rucked up his torso and pants terribly tented. 

“What… the fuck.” 

Harry flinches at the light that assaults him from behind closed eyelids, scrunching up his face and trying to turn away. He lets out a groan when the tinkling sound of his alarm clock reaches his ear. He flops a hand out and knocks his phone to the floor, letting out another moan and finally getting out of bed, bending over to pick up his phone and switch off the alarm. 

He lets out a sigh and rubs a hand against his stomach, scratching lightly as he heads to the bathroom to get ready. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, thinking about the way Louis opened himself up so easily for Harry. His dick twitches under his towel and he grabs onto the sides of his sink. Harry tilts his chin to his chest and breathes heavily, trying to calm the blood pumping towards his hardening cock. 

He tries to think about his grandma in her underwear, but she keeps turning into Louis. He shakes his head. He imagines Louis in high waisted panties, the edges digging into the soft skin of his hips. In his mind, Louis is walking towards him, hips swaying. He’s wearing heels. His breathing gets heavier as he imagines Louis slowly sinking into a squat, knees spread. 

He slaps himself across the face. _Get a grip, Harry! You can’t be late for class._

Reminded of his actual adult responsibilities, Harry rushes around his apartment and grabs his bag and a quick breakfast from the fridge. He pauses by the counter, seeing the empty tin that once housed the tea that Louis brought him. He smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he tries to remember the taste, but all he can think about is cherries and Louis. 

He pauses in the living room, looking to the wall that separates his flat from Louis’. He bites his lip, thinking again about the way he had Louis spread out and ready on his kitchen table just a few nights before. He’s stepping away from the door. 

A feeling niggles at the back of his head as he moves towards the wall, running his hand along it as he moves. He knows from experience that Louis’ room sits on the other side of the wall that his couch is sitting against. 

His mind flickers back to his classroom and students, a voice admonishing him for wasting time when he’s already going to be late. The voice is quickly dismissed by another, more seductive, voice telling him to get closer to the wall. _Louis is on the other side_. _Go on, Harry_. Harry swallows and clears his throat, debating between the angel and devil on his shoulders. He blinks hard and sways. 

Then he climbs onto the back of the couch, and presses his ear against the wall.

A few hours later, Harry is sitting on the floor outside Louis’ flat, scratching at the wood and talking to himself in the hopes that Louis will hear him, when his mom shows up. He’s been sat there for close to two hours now, waiting for Louis to open the door. He can hear Pippin prowling on the other side, hitting the door and hissing occasionally. 

“Come on, Pip,” he coaxes, “Go get mummy. I need to see him.” 

Pippin only growls in response. Harry bangs his head against the wall. He can’t really explain why, but he knows that he won’t give up until he sees Louis. There’s just a compulsion inside of him telling him that this is what he needs to do. 

He thinks about the euphoric feeling that filled him when he heard Louis’ voice through the closed door an hour ago. The sting from the raspy “Go away, Harry!” didn’t even register when all he could focus on was the sound of Louis speaking to him. Remembering that feeling, Harry starts knocking on the door with renewed vigour. 

“What in the world are you doing, Harry?” 

Harry jumps and spins around, coming face to face with his very beautiful, and very angry, mother. Her hair is pinned up and her face is stern, obviously not happy with seeing her only son sitting on the ground in the hallway of his building. 

“I, uh, I need to talk to Louis,” he tries to explain. It sounds weak when he says it out loud, but the feeling that compels him can’t be explained in words. He knows his mom won’t understand. 

“It doesn’t look like he wants to talk to you,” she says, “Come on, you haven’t even shown me the inside of your flat yet.” 

She grabs his arm and pulls him up from the floor. Harry follows her into his flat, but not before taking a last wistful glance at the flat next door. The door clicks shut behind them and Harry shows her around quickly. 

When they get to the kitchen, Harry pauses, thinking about Saturday night. How he and Louis had been closer than they’ve ever been, and how now it feels as though they’re as far apart as could be. A deep sorrow fills his chest at the thought. 

They finish the tour where they started, in the living room. His mother takes a seat on the large couch and he sits on the armchair across from her. 

“So,” Harry winces, “What happened Saturday night? I saw Alex this morning and he told me that you never showed up. He looked absolutely devastated, the poor boy.” 

“Sorry mum,” Harry picks at a loose thread in the arm of his chair, “I fell asleep.” 

His mum’s eyes bug out, disbelieving. “And you couldn’t even call? Harry, I know I raised you better than that. And for such an immature reason.” 

“Sorry, but Louis came by when I woke up.” 

“I’m sure he would have let you make one call,” she waves him off. 

A swell of frustration and anger erupts in the centre of Harry’s chest. How dare his mother suggest that one blind date was more important than fixing his relationship with Louis? Irrationally, he wants her to leave. But she was his mother, and she’d driven over four hours to see him. He pushes down his anger. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes as Harry tries to find something appropriate to say that won’t insult his mother’s delicate sensibilities. He can’t stop thinking about Louis calling him daddy. A smile starts to creep the longer he thinks about it. He covers his mouth with his hand to hide it. 

“Well,” his mother’s voice interrupts him once more, “Is there anything interesting to see in London? It has to be world-famous for a reason, right?” 

Harry just nods. 

“Won’t you show me around, Harry?” she suggests. 

“Oh! Of course, yeah,” He goes through the most famous tourist areas of London, quickly planning a short trip around the city for his visiting mother. “We could go around central London and visit Buckingham and the Eye, if you want. We could even see the aquarium.” 

“A typical tourist day, huh,” she muses, “I like it. Let’s go.” 

As Harry is locking his door behind them, the door next to his opens up and Louis walks out. Harry freezes in place, eyes stuck to Louis’ form as he turns to leave but stops in his steps when he notices Harry and his mother standing in the hall. 

Louis is in his customary uniform for whenever he makes deliveries to clients that live in the city, but can’t cover the website’s shipping rates. He’s in all black, a large sheer cardigan decorated with lace upon lace covering most of his outfit; one side of the shawl is slighting falling off his shoulder, exposing milky skin. On his head sits his favourite large black sun hat and his lips are painted a deep red. 

“Lou,” Harry breathes. He’s immediately overwhelmed with warmth again at the sight of his best friend. He unconsciously moves forward to talk to him, to touch him. 

Louis takes a step back. 

Harry stops, hand hanging midair. “Lou?” he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry,” he throws an obviously false smile in Harry’s direction, “I just have to go. I’m going to be late for this delivery. It was nice to see you, Anne.” 

And just like that, he’s gone again. 

“Oh, I see,” his mother says from behind him, “So that’s how it is.” 

“What?” Harry is only sort of paying attention to his mother, the other half of his mind is still focused on the smile Louis just gave him and the way his eyes hadn’t crinkled with delight. A cold spot makes its home in Harry’s chest at the thought that Louis hadn’t been as happy to see him as he was to see Louis. 

“I knew you were in love with him,” his mother is saying, “but I didn’t know it was getting _this_ bad.” 

That catches his attention. He’s not in love with Louis. _Right?_ His mother’s always been a romantic, he reasons. _Still…_ He looks at her, waiting for her to elaborate. 

“Oh, Harry,” she sighs and makes her way over to the lift, “It’s in the way you look at him like he’s hung every star in the sky. As if he’s the sun itself.” 

“He _is_ the sun,” Harry says, “But I’m not- I’m not in-” 

“It’s alright, darling,” his mum interrupts, “Whenever you’re ready.” 

“Mum,” he says quietly. She turns to face him, taking in the look on his face and the way he’s standing, the breadth of his shoulder and his towering height. She smiles and reaches out to him, taking him in her arms. “My little boy’s all grown up, isn’t he?” 

“I’m 26,” Harry says into her hair, his arms caging her in. 

“My little boy,” she insists. “Grown up and in love. I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Let’s go see London,” he changes the subject. 

Later that night, after his mum has left, Harry’s back in the hallway outside Louis’ flat. The difference now is that he can hear Louis laughing within, along with Niall’s boisterous voice. They’ve been hanging out for the past few hours, but Harry’s only been trying to hear what they’re talking about for the past twenty minutes. 

The voices get more muffled as they move deeper into the flat. They’re probably going to Louis’ room. Harry scrambles up from the floor and into his apartment. He knows that the wall in his living room is shared with the one in Louis’ room, and he presses his ear against it, trying to hear Louis’ giggles one more time. 

He slips against the wall when there’s a knock on his door. _What is it with me and getting surprise visitors all of a sudden?_ He can’t help but think. 

Liam is on the other side of the door when he opens it. 

“Hey, Li,” Harry says, “What are you doing here?” While it’s true that he hasn’t seen Liam in person for a few weeks, it’s a relatively normal occurrence. In fact, they’d spoken on the phone just the day before. 

Liam raises a bag of crisps and a six-pack of beer. “Thought we could have a guys’ night. I think there’s a footie game on tonight.” 

Harry gestures him in, closing the door behind him. “Sounds good,” he says, “How've you been?” 

“Doing really good, actually,” Liam says, “Niall and I are thinking about moving in together.” He sits on the couch while Harry goes into the kitchen to get a bowl for the crisps. 

“Oh, shit, Liam!” he says from the other room, “That’s awesome!” 

“I thought so, too,” he chuckles, “What about you, H? How are you after Friday?” 

Thinking about Friday makes him think about Saturday. A dopey smile crosses his face. Liam laughs, “Was your date that good?” 

The smile falls, “Date? Oh, yeah, the date. Uh, I didn’t end up going.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t end up going? What has you so happy then?” Liam asks, curious. Harry considers not telling Liam about the fact that he almost fucked Louis, but he has to share it with someone. He’s about to combust from the thought alone. 

“Louis and I almost hooked up,” he leans his head against the wall behind him, discreetly trying to see if he can hear any noise from next door. Liam drops his jaw and his unopened beer. 

“What?” he chokes out, “Wait, what do you mean ‘almost’? Why did you stop? How did it even start?” 

Harry raises his eyebrows at Liam’s interrogation, “I don’t know, Li. It’s like all of a sudden I couldn’t think about anything except for Louis. He was all I wanted,” he tries to explain, “Like something inside me was just pulsing for him. It wouldn’t be satisfied until I got him. We were only getting started when he just ran off.”

“But he was into it?” Liam asks, “You didn’t force him into anything?” 

“Of course he was into it!” Harry cries, appalled. He thinks back to the moans and whines that fell from Louis last night and nods, “He was _definitely_ into it.” 

“Ugh, okay, that’s more information than I needed and you didn’t even say anything,” Liam says, disgusted, “You said he ran off?” 

“Yeah, called me daddy and dipped.” 

“Harry, what the _fuck._ I didn’t need to know that!” 

Harry laughs, “You asked!” 

Liam elbows him, disgruntled. They watch the footie game for a while before Harry gets distracted by the sound of music tinkling through the wall behind him. He can no longer hear Louis, though. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks about what could be happening on the other side of the wall. His imagination begins to run wild, from murder to orgies. He gets up. 

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, mouth full of crisps. 

“Bathroom,” Harry says. Liam gives him a thumbs up. 

He leaves and crouches outside the door of Louis’ flat, his ear to the door. 

His heart stops when he hears Louis and Niall talking right on the other side. Niall must be getting ready to leave. 

“You’ll figure it out,” an Irish accent reassures, “It’ll probably wear off soon, anyway. There’s no need to worry about it too much, Lou Lou.”

“He’s just acting so weird,” Louis’ angelic voice says. Harry sighs happily at the sound, “It’s odd seeing him act like this. Like he loves me the way I love him. I’ve never messed up this bad.” 

Harry hears a record scratch in his head. _Louis loves someone?_ Why hadn't he told Harry? They tell each other everything. Harry bites his thumbnail. It doesn’t make sense. 

“Isn’t this what you want, though?” Niall asks him, “Why not take advantage of the situation you have?” 

“I can’t, Niall!” Louis exclaims, “It’s wrong. He doesn’t know what’s happening. All he knows is that he wants to be as near to me as possible. I mixed up the recipe.” He says the last part quietly, ashamed of it. Harry wants to barge into the flat and pick him up in his arms, wants to take all of his pain away. 

“All the potion does is enhance his already existing emotions, right?” There’s a pause, “Either way, he’ll be fine soon. You said it would last a week?” 

“It should, but it may be less because he only took half of the dose,” Louis sighs, “Maybe I should finally just tell him everything.” 

“There you go!” Niall cheers, “Don’t be scared, Lou Lou. He loves you now and he’ll love you even more afterwards.” 

There’s a rustling of fabric as Louis presumably hugs Niall tight, his muffled voice barely coming through the door. There’s silence for a few minutes, and Harry uses this opportunity to turn and make his way back into his own flat. 

“Took you a while,” Liam says, “Get a good one out?” 

Harry throws a pillow at him, “Gross. Go home and be a guy alone.” 

Liam laughs and gets up, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a loud groan. “Alright, alright, I get it. You want to be alone.” He makes a rude gesture with his hand and Harry pushes him out of his flat. 

“Goodnight, Liam.” He says with finality, slamming the door closed in his friend’s face before he can get an answer out. His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Liam; a lone middle finger emoji greets him. 

Chuckling, Harry throws his phone onto the couch and climbs onto the back of it, pressing his ear against the wall again. Now that Niall is gone, he’s sure Louis is puttering around his flat, cleaning it and maybe petting Pippin on his large purple couch. 

An overwhelming desire to see it builds inside of him and before he knows it, he’s standing outside of Louis’ flat once more, knocking on the door this time. Minutes pass and pass with no answer. Harry knocks softly again, calling Louis’ name softly.

This time he only has to wait for a few seconds before the door creaks open a bit, only part of Louis’ face showing in the crack. He gives Harry a small smile. Harry smiles back at him and presses his hand against the door, putting a bit of pressure against it. It swings open a bit more, but not all the way. More of Louis’ face shows as the light from the hallway leaks into his flat. He looks wary but curious. Harry wants to erase that wariness from his eyes, wants to replace it with pleasure. 

He puts more pressure against the door, pushing it open all the way. Louis steps backwards into his apartment, eyes always on Harry. He follows, feeling very much like he’s being pulled into the ocean by a siren. The further he walks into the flat, the blurrier his surroundings get. He’s completely focused on the angel in front of him. 

His eyebrows furrow when Louis keeps walking away from him. Frustrated with the fact that he’s not getting any closer, Harry rushes forward and grabs Louis, throwing him over his shoulder. 

“Harry!” Louis squeals and kicks his feet out, “You caveman!” 

Harry flips him over gently so that he’s laid out on the couch. Harry climbs over him and growls out in a low voice, “I’m not Harry here, Baby.” 

He watches Louis’ pupils dilate, “Got it?” 

Louis nods. Harry pinches the side of his hip, “I said, _got it?_ ” 

The angel underneath him licks his lips, “Yes, Daddy.” 

Harry feels a rumble in his chest, “Good, baby,” he says. 

He rewards his boy by pressing soft kisses against his neck, moving slowly downwards. Louis starts to squirm the lower he gets. He starts to circle his thumbs around Louis’ nipples, making his breath stutter. Louis whimpers when Harry starts to suck at the pulse point in his neck. 

He sits up at Harry’s prompting and lets him strip him of his shirt. He falls back and his legs fall open. Harry moves between them and rolls his hips downwards. They both moan at the feeling. Louis tangles his hand in Harry’s curls, pulling involuntarily when Harry bites down on his collarbone. 

“D-daddy!” he gasps. His foot runs up the back of Harry’s thigh, suddenly tightening around him and pulling Harry closer to him. The delicious new pressure against his cock has Harry groaning out loud. 

“What do you want, baby?” Harry runs his hand up the length of the leg not currently wrapped around him, grabbing and hitching it up. 

Louis trembles and lifts his hands to cover his face, moans tumbling out of his lips as Harry continues to roll his hips. Harry hums, lifting one of Louis' hands his off of his face and sucking the index finger into his mouth. 

The other hand falls from his face as Louis watches Harry fellate his finger, coating it in saliva. When he’s done, Harry directs the finger to trail down Louis’ naked chest, the cold trail raising goosebumps along his skin, until he reaches the top band of his pants. 

“Baby,” Harry repeats into his ear, “How far do you want to go?” 

“I want,” Louis’ chest heaves, “I want to come. Please, Daddy.” 

Harry smirks, eyes glittering, “Alright, baby. We can definitely do something about that. 

“Turn around.” 

Louis swallows, heart visibly racing in his chest. Harry massages his thumbs into Louis’ soft hips encouragingly. Slowly, Louis turns onto his stomach, supported on his elbows so that he can still look behind him at Harry. He does, biting his lip and waiting for Harry’s next move. 

Harry drops a quick kiss between his shoulder blades. He slips his fingertips into the waist of Louis’ pants, pulling one side out before letting it snap back against his skin. Louis jolts forward and moans, dropping his head into his arms. _So sensitive_ , Harry notes. Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, Harry pushes Louis’ pants below his ass. 

“Is this okay?” He gets a vigorous nod in response, “Words, angel.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Louis says. 

Harry pulls the pants all the way down Louis’ legs before throwing them aside. Turning back to his angel, Harry admires the lithe curves and lean muscle of Louis’ body. He runs his hands up his legs, landing at the crease of his ass. He takes a moment just to look at the perfection that is Louis Tomlinson’s ass. Then he grabs a cheek in each hand and just _squeezes_. 

Louis whimpers and pushes his ass back into Harry’s palms, eyes screwed shut. Harry lifts a hand and smacks it against the bare skin of Louis’ behind, reveling in the sweet “Ah!” he gets from Louis at the impact. 

“God, I’ve been waiting to do this for so long,” Harry mumbles to himself. What he wouldn’t give to have been able to spank Louis all those times when he had given him attitude or messed with his things.

“Harry,” Louis moans. Harry spanks him again, “D-daddy!” 

“There we go, baby,” Harry massages the heated skin under his cooler palm, “You’re doing so well. Do you want more?” 

Louis nods again and hums, “Yes, please.” He pushes his hips back. 

Harry grabs one of the many decorative pillows on the floor, giving it to Louis and telling him to place it under his hips. Harry can feel his own cock straining at the zipper of his jeans, but pays it no mind. The only thing he cares about is Louis’ pleasure. 

When Louis is situated, Harry moves further down the couch so that he’s laying between Louis’ splayed legs. “I’m going to eat you out now,” he warns. 

“Wha-eat me-Harryyyy,” his voice breaks into a moan when Harry presses the flat of his tongue against his entrance and begins to lick him open. Harry smacks an open palm against his ass again for not calling him Daddy. “Oh my God.” 

Harry pulls back for a second to say, “Not God, baby, just Daddy,” before he dives back in. He licks and teases at Louis’ hole for about ten minutes before he can feel the legs around him tensing. Louis’ moans get louder and he pushes back against Harry’s face to get him closer. 

“Daddy,” Louis whimpers and grabs at the couch cushion in front of him and pushes his entire body back in Harry’s direction, “M-more, daddy!” 

He eases his tongue into the hot heat in front of him, licking and prodding. He smacks his hand against Louis’ ass, making him kick and squeal. 

Louis starts to pant harder, hips moving frantically against the pillow underneath him. Harry presses the pad of his finger against Louis’ hole, teasing him with a promise of what Harry wants to do to him. 

Louis comes.

He’s relatively quiet about it, considering his usual tendencies of wanting to be the loudest person in the room. His mouth drops open and his eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. The lights around them flicker but he’s fucking beautiful and Harry’s too busy plunging his hand into his own pants, wrapping around himself and stroking quickly to notice. He comes in record time with a low grunt. 

After getting a washcloth and cleaning up any residue, Harry maneuvers Louis so that he’s sitting curled up in his lap. They sit there, panting and euphoric with the aftershocks of their orgasms still snaking through their systems. 

Louis rests his head against Harry’s shoulder and starts to cry. Harry panics, checking him over for any kind of injury, “Woah, Baby. Hey, hey, hey. Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong?” 

When he’s satisfied that there are no external injuries, Harry begins to stroke his hand down the length of Louis’ back, pulling him in closer and rocking him slightly. Louis begins to heave big, wracking sobs that shake his entire body.

“Was it something I did? Did you not like it?” He just shakes his head and burrows even further into Harry’s hold. He gives a shaky thumbs up to reassure Harry that he did, in fact, love it. Harry grabs onto the digit with his own hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing each finger. “You’re alright, you’ll be okay,” he continues to quietly reassure the crying boy in his arms. 

He thinks he can hear Louis mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over again into his chest, hiccuping and coughing through his tears. 

He remembers the conversation he overhead earlier that evening between Louis and Niall about Louis being in love with someone. His heart begins to ache at the memory and he tries to pull Louis even closer to him, impossible as it is. He thinks that the object of Louis’ affection might have something to do with his breakdown. 

Harry is suddenly filled with the urge to hunt down whoever made Louis cry like this and make them pay. But then he looks down at him and all of the fight leaves his body at once. He needs to take care of Louis. 

Soon enough, Louis calms down enough to fall asleep, exhausted. Harry picks him up and carries him into his room, briefly waking Pippin up to make room on the bed. The giant cat snarls at him slightly before curling up next to Louis and falling back asleep. 

Like he usually does when he sleeps over at Louis’, Harry pulls a blanket out of the linen closet and makes a makeshift bed on the couch. He can still smell the sex in the air as he drifts off to sleep. 

_Harry’s standing on a beach. He’s facing a forest, but he can feel the sand between his toes and hear the waves crashing against the shore behind him._ How did I get here? _He thinks. He looks beside him._

_Liam is playing with a football, bouncing it on his chest and his knees, waiting for Harry to acknowledge him. But wait, this isn’t the Liam he remembers from a few hours ago. This Liam has the curls and the teeth from the Liam remembers in high school. Looking down at himself, Harry still sees his 26 year old body._

_“Come on, H,” Liam is saying, “The uni guys over there want to play football, isn’t that cool? They said they saw you playing and wanted to join.”_

_“Yeah, Liam,” he can hear himself answer, “it’s really cool, but I think I’m just going to go for a walk. You go join them.”_

_Suddenly, he remembers. This was a beach trip he’d taken with Liam right before the beginning of their last year of sixth form. One last hurrah before uni, Liam had said, as Harry was always so busy at football practice, or hanging out with his other friends._

_Those other friends turned out to be the reason he couldn’t go on to play football professionally. But he hadn’t known that yet._

_“Harry!” Liam pleaded, “I just saw Isabelle talking to one of them. Help me out, man.”_

_“Liam, she’s already your girlfriend. You don’t need to continue trying to impress her.”_

_“You’ll understand when you’re in love, H,” he passed the ball over to Harry, who began to dribble it with the top of his foot, “You’ll do anything to keep their eyes on you.”_

_“My little boy,” his mum suddenly says from behind him. Harry turns around, confused because she’d been stuck at work that day._

_He’s no longer on the beach._

_Instead, he’s standing in the hallway of his residential building. It’s the same scene he’d been a part of earlier that very same day. He’s standing across the hall from where he originally stood, watching himself from afar as he stares at Louis. His mum stands behind him, eyes sharp._

_He can see it, too. What his mum told him. His eyes follow Louis as he walks past, staring at him like he’s hung every star in the sky. He can see himself pleading that Louis will turn around one last time to look at him. He doesn’t._

_“My little boy,” his mum says again, wrapping an arm around his waist, “All grown up and in love.”_

_Fuck, he’s in love with Louis. He can’t breathe. There’s a weight on his chest at the realization. He can’t breathe._ He can’t breathe. 

Harry’s eyes pop open and he sucks in a desperate breath. Instead of air, however, he breathes in cat fur. Sputtering, Harry looks down at his chest, where Pippin is laid out. His tail is flicking back and forth, the culprit for the mountain of hair currently stuck to his tongue. He pushes the cat off of him and stands, brushing his hands down the front of his shirt, trying to get rid of as much cat hair as possible, knowing that it’s useless. 

“Morning,” he hears. 

“Oh, fuck!” Harry spins around and sees Louis standing in the doorway to his bedroom. He’s obviously still half asleep, hand rubbing against his eye and resting his full body weight against the wall. “You scared me, darling.” 

He’s made his way over to Louis, arm wrapped around his waist and leading him over to the couch before he can even register his intention to do so. Louis frowns at the blanket thrown over the back of it, looking up at Harry, “You slept on the couch?” 

“Well, I couldn’t very well sleep with you and Pippin, now, could I?” Pippin hisses at him, as if offended at the very thought. Louis throws a sweater paw in front of his mouth and giggles. Harry smiles down at him, glad that he seems to have forgotten his troubles from last night.

“I’m about to make breakfast,” Harry says, “any suggestions?” 

“Pancakes, please.” 

“Coming right up!” 

They’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen table when Harry feels the mood shift. When he looks up from his plate, he can see that Louis has put his fork down and is watching him, a small frown on his face. 

He pushes his finger against Louis’ forehead, “Don’t frown too much, angel. You’ll get wrinkles. I know lads your age start to worry about stuff like that.” 

Usually, Louis would gripe and yell at Harry for making fun of his age, insisting that two years was nothing and that the one who should really be worrying about wrinkles was Harry. Instead, he sits silent and bites his lip, eyes on Harry. 

“What’s the matter, Lou?” he asks, concerned. He feels as though the past week has been filled with dramatics and sadness. He just wants them to move past this obstacle, already. 

The window next to them is splattered with raindrops and the sun outside is hidden behind thick clouds. Louis’ eyes always reflect the weather outside, turning bright blue on clear days and a deeper grey-blue on dreary days like today. His eyes now flick to the window before settling back on Harry, resolute. 

“I have something to tell you, Haz.” 

A bottomless pit appears in Harry’s stomach. _Here it comes_ , he thinks, _Louis is in love with someone else_. The irony of Louis telling him about it the same morning that Harry realized his own feelings is not lost on him. He braces himself. 

“I’m a witch.” 

Harry nods, looking down. And then his head snaps back up, eyes confused. He shakes his head, “What?” 

“I’m a witch, Harry.” It’s official, his best friend, the love of his life, is insane. 

Harry laughs, a bit hysterical, “Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?

“I don’t believe you.” 

With a flick of Louis’ wrist, the tap turns on and water begins to pour out. 

“Okay, I believe you.” 

“I know it’s hard to take in,” Louis is looking down at his hands now, “but I gave you a love potion, and that’s why you think you’re in love with me.” 

“No,” he insists, “that’s not true, and you aren’t supposed to know that I love you yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis’ voice cracks on the second word, and tears well up in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“Stop it, Louis,” Harry says, “You can’t just tell me that what I’m feeling is wrong and apologize. I know what I feel,” he stands, slamming his hands against the tabletop. Louis jumps and shakes his head harder, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Harry waits for him to explain the joke, staring down at his shaking form. His mind is telling him to get over himself and console him, to get as close as possible and wipe the tears from his cheeks. But Harry’s doubting his inner self now, unsure if it’s really him or the potion that Louis says he gave him. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. 

When nothing comes, Harry exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Right,” he says. 

He leaves the flat. 

It goes against every instinct battling within him to leave Louis crying alone, but he can’t look at his friend without doubting his love for him, something he never wants to do. 

When he closes the door behind him, he hears a sob finally escape Louis’ lungs. He takes the four flights of stairs down to the ground floor, needing time to think to himself. 

Thighs burning, he pushes open the front door to his building and walks out into the rain. He’s in his pajamas, his hair still unbrushed, but Harry couldn’t give less of a shit about that right now. Businessmen and women walk past him on their way to work, umbrellas in hand, giving him obvious once overs as he tilts his head up towards the falling rain. 

He looks towards the fifth-floor windows and sees Louis, one hand against his heart, the other pressed against the glass. Harry closes his eyes and turns back to the skies, at the rain pelting his face and wetting his clothes. 

A familiar car stops on the street next to Harry. The passenger window rolls down and Harry sees two pairs of eyes, Niall’s bright blue and Liam’s hazel, gazing worriedly at him. Liam nods his head at him to get in the back seat. Harry takes one more look at the fifth-floor window, where Louis still stands, watching over him. He waves. 

Harry gets in the car and they drive off. 

Niall turns in his seat to face him and offers him a towel, “Hey, drama queen.” 

Harry snorts and shakes his head, rubbing the towel against his hair. He doesn’t have to ask them why they came. There’s no doubt in his mind that Louis called Liam as soon as he walked out of the flat. 

“You can’t deny it,” Niall tuts, “You’re the one that was standing in the rain.”

“It’s your fault if you get sick,” Liam interjects, trying to keep the mood light. Harry can see that his friend keeps sending questioning glances at Niall, which he keeps ignoring. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, for a lack of anything better.

They quietly make their way through the city streets and arrive at Liam’s building. Harry keeps a tight hold on the towel in his hands, needing something to ground himself. When the door is closed behind them, Harry immediately collapses onto the sofa with Liam while Niall putters in the kitchen. 

“He says he’s a witch,” Harry breaks the silence. He can’t believe he just said that out loud. Laughter begins to bubble under his chin. 

Liam’s head snaps to look at him, “What the fuck are you talking about, mate?” 

“Louis told me that he’s a witch and that he gave me a love potion,” he explains, “and that’s why I think I’m in love with him.” 

“You’re in love with him?” 

Harry groans and rolls onto his back, waving his hands around in the air aimlessly, “Keep up, Li! Of fucking course I’m in love with Louis. Have you seen him?” 

“So you say,” Liam places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “But couldn’t that just be whatever potion he said he gave you?” 

“It’s definitely not,” Niall says, walking into the room with a tray filled with sandwiches. 

“What do you mean, babe?” Liam asks, reaching for a small sandwich and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. Harry looks at him, slightly disgusted at the display. 

“Louis _thinks_ that he gave you a love potion, right?” He explains, “But what he really just gave you was basically viagra in a tin.”

Harry’s confused, “I’m confused.” 

“I asked him about the recipe that he used for the tea he gave you, and it turns out that he wrote the recipe down wrong. Typical Louis, right? He used cherries instead of apples,” Niall laughs. 

“So what does that mean?” Liam looks just as confused as Harry feels. 

“It means,” he rolls his eyes, as if he can’t believe he has to explain himself, “that Harry _is_ in love with Louis. The potion has no effect on his emotions themselves, just his instincts.” 

“Right,” Harry says, “I knew that.” 

He pauses, a thought occurring to him, “What about the man that Louis is in love with?” 

“Harry,” Niall deadpans, “What.” 

“I, uh, I overheard you guys talking last night about Louis being in love with someone that he gave a potion to,” he confesses. 

“Harry,” Niall says again, voice hard, “You’re a guy Louis gave a potion to, aren’t you?” 

“Well, yeah,” he thinks about it, “Wait. It’s me?” He points to himself, disbelieving. 

“Oh my god,” Niall throws his hands in the air. Harry’s heart lifts at the possibility that his feelings are reciprocated. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Liam interrupts him, “How do you know this stuff? Do I have to worry about any potions or spells?” 

“I just know it from being friends with Louis for so long,” Niall reassures his boyfriend, sliding into his lap, “No potions, no spells, just me.” 

Harry looks away, making a gagging noise. He laughs from the floor when Liam shoves him off of the couch. 

At Niall’s suggestion, Harry decides to stay with Liam for the next few days. 

“Just until the potion wears off,” Niall reasons, “Then you can talk to Louis without wanting to pick him up and fuck him against the wall.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever not want to do that,” Harry tells him. But he agrees to stay, knowing that if he does go to Louis now, he won’t be able to think clearly. He needs time for whatever spell is on him to wear off, as well as his frustration from being lied to for over a year to fade.

The first night is probably the hardest, for Harry at least. Niall warns Liam that he may try to sneak out during the night to get back to Louis, so Liam takes the couch and insists that Harry take the bed. 

Sure enough, the clock hits 2 in the morning and Harry is jumping out of the bed with the urge to get to Louis and make sure he’s safe. _How dare Harry leave him alone and unprotected at night?_ He berates himself. 

Heart racing with the need to get back home, Harry doesn’t even register the fact that he’s tripped over the wire set up in the middle of the living room. 

He’s crawling on the floor, trying to get to the door as quickly as possible when Liam tackles him. 

They both fly into the wall, denting it with the impact. Harry struggles against Liam’s hold, using the momentum to flip them over and pin Liam’s hands to the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Harry yells at him. He rears back with a fist. 

“Saving your ass,” Liam wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and twists so that they fall sideways. He scrambles to his knees, pinning his arm against Harry’s throat so that he has the upper hand. 

Harry’s baring his teeth at him, growling and breathing heavily, head blurred and confused at the sudden turn of events, “Liam, let me go!” 

“I can’t do that, H,” Liam arranges himself so that his knees pin Harry’s hips to the ground. 

“Why not?” Harry shouts, frustrated at his loss, “I _need_ to see him, Li. You don’t understand.” 

“I understood when Niall said that the fastest way to let the potion fade was to make sure you stayed away from Louis,” He tightens his hold when Harry starts struggling harder against his grip, “Come on H, don’t you want to see him sooner?” 

God, Harry hates it when Liam makes sense. 

They spend the next three days going through the same motions every few hours. By the end of the third day, however, Harry feels like he’s got himself back under control. The urge to see Louis and make sure he’s safe is always in the back of his mind, but he’s pretty sure that’s always been there. 

He and Liam have gotten into so many fights in the past few days that they’ve started keeping a tally. Liam’s winning by a few, but Harry reasons that he’s been a bit out of his mind lately. 

When he finally feels like he can talk to someone without bringing up Louis every few minutes, Liam calls Niall over to get his stamp of approval. 

When he finally walks in half an hour later, he goes straight to Harry and pulls his head back harshly, looking directly into his eyes. 

“Ouch,” Harry complains. 

“Shut up, Styles,” Niall demands, “I’m mad at you.” 

“Why?” Harry asks. He’s been behaving! Sort of. 

“If I’d known that you humped and dumped my best friend, I would _not_ have helped you.” 

“Woah!” Harry shouts, coming to his own defence, “We may have humped, but I didn’t do any dumping. If anything he’s the one that dumped me.” 

“He’s not the one that walked out, Harry,” Niall argues, letting go of his head and walking backward to fall into the armchair behind him. He rests his head in his palm and watches Harry carefully.

“I only walked out because I couldn’t think straight,” he emphasizes, “Because he gave me a potion. Because he says he’s a _witch_.” 

“Whatever, Harry,” Niall sighs, “Why don’t you just go talk to him yourself.” 

“So I’m good to go?” Harry asks, already halfway out of his seat. When Niall nods and waves his hand, Harry bolts out the flat and makes his way back home. 

To Louis. 

By the time he makes it back to his building, the clouds have opened up once more and rain has started to pour down on him. Harry looks up at the sky, the raindrops falling onto his closed eyes. He takes a deep breath and steels himself, looking forward. 

Louis stands in the entrance with an open umbrella. 

He hasn’t seen Louis in over three days, the longest they’ve ever gone without seeing each other since they first started hanging out last year. Harry lets his eyes roam across his figure, taking in his mussed hair and tired eyes. 

They start to walk towards each other at the same time, meeting in the middle. Harry grabs the umbrella from Louis’ hand so that he can hold it above him, shielding both of them from the rain. Louis’ eyes flicker between his own, searching. 

When all he sees is clarity and pure love, the furrow between his brows smooths out and his lower lip begins to tremble. Harry drops the umbrella and grabs Louis’ face with both of his hands, pushing their foreheads together. The rain starts to drench their clothes, slicking Harry’s hair against his face. 

He rubs his nose against Louis’ and whispers, “Louis, I love you.” 

Louis brings a hand up to swipe at the tears in his eyes, “For real?” 

“For real, for real,” Harry nods, “I am so fucking in love with you, I can’t stand it.” 

Louis gives a watery giggle, sniffling, “I love you, too,” he says quietly. 

And oh, the way that sentence makes Harry feel. The way it fills his entire chest with warmth and love. He wants to jump up and down and scream out the fact that Louis Tomlinson is in love with _him_. He’s never felt so giddy. 

“For real?” he asks back, his lips are stretched in a grin and his eyes are watering. 

“Yep,” Louis says, his own bright smile taking over, “Love, love, love you!” 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Harry warns. The smile on Louis’ face morphs into a slack mouth as he looks up at Harry. He bites his lip and dips his eyes to Harry’s own, nodding slightly. Harry uses the grip he has on Louis’ head to tilt him back and bends forward to accommodate for their size difference. 

He presses his lips gently against the Louis’ soft mouth, who immediately presses against him harder, humming with pleasure. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and pulls him in closer as Louis wraps his arms around his neck. 

The rain continues to beat down on them and Harry pinches Louis’ hip, licking into his mouth when he gasps at the sudden sting of pain. 

Louis immediately submits to his mouth, brushing a hand back to tangle in Harry’s hair. A moan escapes him as Harry sucks on his tongue and his leg trails up the back of Harry's calf. Harry's hands migrate downward to grope Louis' ass and bring him closer.

“Get a fucking room!” Someone yells at them from across the street. 

They break apart, gasping. Harry looks into Louis’ eyes, silently asking him if he wants to take it upstairs. Louis’ answer is to grab onto Harry’s shoulders and jump up, wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips. Harry instinctively grabs his thighs and marches into the building and lift, pressing the button for the fifth floor. 

He slams Louis up against the wall of the lift, pressing their lips together again desperately. He rolls his hips against Louis’, enjoying the dragging pressure against his trapped cock. Louis pulls hard on his hair at the feeling, letting out a loud moan. 

Harry moves to peppering kisses and licks on the soft skin of Louis’ neck, pulling at the lobe of his ear and whispering filthy promises. Louis can’t do anything but whimper at the sensations, rolling his hips back down on Harry’s crotch. 

Harry has just snaked his hand underneath Louis’ sweater when the lift doors open to their floor. He holds back a growl at the interruption and quickly makes his way to his flat, Louis still wrapped around him. 

He races to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot. Louis giggles when he lets go, bouncing up and down on the bed. He reaches out for Harry, fingers holding on to the fabric of his collar and pulling him forward. Harry trips over the edge of the mattress. 

Holding himself above Louis with both of his palms planted on the bed on either side of his head, Harry slowly lowers his hips down to rest against Louis, dragging their cocks against each other. Harry hisses at the pleasure as Louis’ mouth drops open in a silent gasp, his left hand shooting up to wrap around Harry’s wrist. 

“Da-Harry,” he pants. 

Harry smirks at his slip up, moving his hand down and massaging the soft thickness of Louis’ ass. He lowers his head down so that his mouth is breathing hotly against Louis’ ear, feels him shiver, and says, “What was that, baby?” 

He pulls back to look at Louis, one eyebrow raised. Louis thinks for a moment, then bites his lip, which quirks up in the corner mischievously.

“Nothing, Daddy,” he answers in his raspy voice. 

Harry hums, “That’s right, baby.” He reaches over to grab lube and a condom from his bedside table. When he turns back to Louis, he sees that he’s already stripped himself of all his clothes except for his underwear. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” he smirks. Louis’ cheeks pink as he blushes. Harry watches as he presses and rubs his thighs together, making a mental note about a possible humiliation kink. _To be explored later_ , he thinks. He prowls on the bed towards Louis, pushing his shoulder lightly to get him to lay back on the mattress. 

“Ready?” Harry asks, opening the bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers. 

“Wait,” Louis interjects. Harry stops what he’s doing right away and looks at Louis questioningly. “I want to suck you.” 

Harry freezes. His dick is so hard it could probably cut diamonds. He’s never been this hard.

“Angel,” he starts, “You really don’t have to-”

“Shut up. I want to suck your cock, Daddy,” he takes it back, _now_ he’s never been this hard.

He nods emphatically and they switch spots so that Harry is sitting against the headboard, legs spread out in front of him. Louis sits on his knees beside him as he gets situated, biting on his thumb. 

“Come here, baby,” Harry opens his arms, wanting Louis to be as comfortable as possible. Louis moves into his arms, plump ass resting on Harry’s thighs. Harry holds his chin in his fingers, licking into his mouth. Louis moans, melting as most of the tension leaves his shoulders. 

They continue to make out for a few minutes. Louis is grinding his ass back and forth on Harry’s cock for a bit before he pulls back and moves backwards on Harry’s legs. He then gets on all fours in front of him, face hovering over Harry’s bulge. 

He takes a deep breath, nuzzling into the soft cotton of Harry’s pants, giggling when Harry unintentionally pushes his hips upwards towards his face. He opens the zipper and pulls Harry’s trousers down under his hips, coming face to face with the intimidating monster in Harry’s pants.

His eyes flick up towards Harry, who smiles encouragingly. Louis bites his lip and reaches into Harry’s pants, pulling out his cock, which springs back and almost hits him in the face, had he not moved back in surprise. 

“If it’s too much,” Harry tells him, “I don’t need you to do this for me, baby.” 

“No,” he says firmly, “I want to do it.

“It’s just…” Louis hesitates, “It’s my first time with one this big.” 

Harry rubs his hands across the skin of Louis’ back, “You don’t need to take the whole thing. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Use your hands for the rest.” 

Louis nods, bending back down at the waist so that his face is level with Harry’s crotch while his ass sways back and forth in the air. Harry rubs his hand down the length of his back, landing on his ass with a _smack!_

Louis moans into his leg, wrapping both of his hands around Harry’s cock and stroking up and down slowly. Harry holds back a moan at the fact that his hand can’t wrap all the way around his width. 

Suddenly, a wet heat surrounds the head of his cock and Harry can’t hold it in anymore. He lets his head fall back against the headboard and moans out Louis’ name. Louis sucks at his head and licks him from base to tip, alternating between the two.

Harry tangles his hand in his lover’s hair when he hits the sensitive spot underneath the head. Louis moans around his cock, sending vibrations through him and making his tighten his grip even further in Louis’ hair. 

Getting too close to coming, Harry pulls Louis off of his cock, manhandling him so that he’s straddling Harry’s waist. He pushes their mouths together desperately, sucking his tongue into his mouth. 

His hands roam Louis’ entire body, always coming back to the curve where his ass meets the small of his back. He stretches and gropes at Louis’ ass, slipping his fingers in the crease to tease at his hole. Louis lets a stuttering breath. 

“D-daddy,” he whines, pushing back against Harry’s hands, “please.” 

Harry wraps his hands around Louis’ slim waist, rolling him over gently so that he’s laying down again with Harry hovering over him. He drops a quick kiss on his lips before opening the lube again. Slicked up, he warms the liquid with his fingers before teasing around Louis’ hole, trying to get him to loosen up a bit. 

He’s surprised when his fingers slip in a bit easier than he expected. The shock must show on his face because Louis giggles a bit. Harry looks at him, expectant, but all he does is whine before covering his face in embarrassment. 

“Had fun without me?” Harry teases him with a smirk. 

“Stop,” Louis pleads, “That’s so embarrassing!”

Harry looks down at him dumbfounded, “It’s sexy as fuck, is what it is, baby.” 

Louis peaks out at him from behind his arms, “Really?” he asks. 

Harry crawls up the bed so that he’s face to face with Louis, he makes sure he’s keeping eye contact with Louis before he rolls his hips forward, his hard cock dragging between Louis’ cheeks and catching on his hole briefly. Louis’ breath catches in his throat when Harry drops his head and groans lowly in his ear at the friction. 

“Does that feel like you should be embarrassed?” he asks. Louis shakes his head, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. 

Harry spanks his ass before rubbing it to soothe the sting, “Words, baby.” 

“No, Daddy,” Louis relents. His arms drop from his face to lay relaxed beside his head. Harry spanks him again, making him twist his hands in the sheets and cry out. 

“No, it’s not what?” he prompts. He grabs Louis’ leg and hitches it up so that his thigh rests against his torso. He returns his fingers to Louis’ hole, slipping one in. 

“It’s not embarrassing!” Louis shouts at the sudden intrusion, “Daddy!” 

Harry hums and kisses along his neck, taking special care to give extra attention to the weak spot beneath his ear, nibbling and sucking at it while he loosens Louis up. One hand lets go of the sheets beneath him to grab onto the back of Harry’s head and force him closer. Harry revels in the whimpers and cries of “ _Daddy!_ ” that spill out of Louis’ sweet lips. 

When he’s about to put in a fourth finger, he feels Louis reach down and slap his hand away, “I’m ready, I’m ready,” he pants, “come on.”

Harry nods and breaks open the condom, slipping it on his cock and giving himself a slow stroke to lube himself up, “Ready, angel?” 

“Oh my god,” Louis groans. Harry laughs. 

“Just wanted to make sure you still wanted this,” he explains. 

Louis grabs his face between his palms, looking directly into his eyes, “Harry there will never be a day where I won’t want this. Trust me.” 

Harry nods again, reassured. Holding himself, he directs his cock and slowly sinks into the tight constricting heat of Louis’ hole. Eyes still locked, they both moan at the feeling. Harry presses his lips hard against Louis’, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and tilting his head back for a better angle. His cock keeps sinking, inch by inch, into a melting heat. 

He must brush against something good because Louis cries out in his mouth suddenly. Encouraged, Harry pulls his cock out before plunging back in, making sure to hit that same spot. Louis falls back into the bed, twisting his hands in the sheets, pulling them closer around him, in ecstasy. 

“Ah-ah- _ah_! Daddy!” he moans, “F-feels so good!” 

“Yeah?” Harry clenches his teeth as pleasure washes over him, “Feel good, baby?” 

Louis whines high and nods, eyes tightly squeezed shut. He trails a hand down his body. Harry thinks that he’s aiming for his ignored cock. He knocks the hand away, much to Louis’ dismay, “Oh no, baby,” he growls, “You’re going to come on my cock.” 

“No!” he protests, “Daddy, please! Touch me!” 

Harry takes the hand that was on Louis’ waist and traces his nipples, moving his head down to meet it. He swirls and sucks at the bud, never pausing in his punishing thrusts. Louis moans when he bites down sharply on his nipple. 

“Come on, baby,” Harry pulls Louis’ hips up for a better angle and quickly rains down a few spanks against his ass, “Come.” 

Louis’ mouth drops open and he tilts his head far back, overcome with pleasure as he comes, shooting up between their bodies. He convulses with the aftershocks as Harry quickly pulls out and pulls the condom off. His hand strips his cock frantically, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his climax. 

Louis’ smaller hand wraps around his dick once more and that’s it. He comes with a shout, collapsing on the bed beside Louis. 

Louis curls into his arms right away, pressing a sweet kiss between his pecs. Harry wraps himself around the smaller man, rocking him back and forth while he tries to get his breath back. 

“I love you,” Louis says. 

“I love you too, my little witch,” Harry answers. 

“And Pippin? Is he like a human trapped in a cat’s body?” 

“He’s my familiar, but other than that he’s just a regular cat.”

“Are you sure?” 

  
  



End file.
